Mannequin Republic by At The Drive-in

I'm just tired of counting bodies
Is this mausoleum tardy
Let's just paint you a pretty face
Flies dip tongues into tear ducts
In toothpicks fought unborn
Contusion is hungry
They still eat their young
Proto-culture null and void

All veins in highway laps
This breath collapsed again
This hex was delivered spent
Orchestra influenza
Drawn and quartered pets
It dwells and grows

This is the pocket-sized edition
Rapid sleep through benediction
Let's just paint you a pretty face
Museums mark their bodies down
And the tenants found
All the distance in their prefix

Contusion is hungry
They still eat their young
Proto-culture null and void
Fever bliss into central nervousness
I was bitten on the entrance


They'd call it a wasteland
Auslander plates
You know its armor was human
Drove stakes into the main camps
Eyesockets sank into
The back of its head again
This frequency was jet lagged
Yes the wrinkles mate
Was the owner's manual

Frequent flyers in denial
And all the while
Emergency is evident
Revenants were the statues
Radar learning of huddles masses
Sutured all the patience
Of this nursing home
Emitted from the pages
Of this burial ground

Labor concentrated
In this sheepless chapel
They call it a wasteland